


Most Precious Gifts

by Raven2547



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gen, Gift Giving, Kink Meme, Peter has some misconceptions about life, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:34:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven2547/pseuds/Raven2547
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for kinkmeme</p><p>light a/b/o universe. Omegas around the galaxy are shown they are appreciated and loved by those around them by being given gifts, platonic or otherwise. Meredith was considered a 'bad' omega on Earth because she had her child out of wedlock and went on to raise him alone. She never received gifts, and Peter continues that tradition out in space thinking he's inherited her badness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Most Precious Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> full prompt: http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/2727.html?thread=1284519#t1284519

Mom keeps all the flowers he's picked up on a high shelf. All of them, even after they're all dead and brown (and she needs new ones around this time, he knows) she still doesn't throw them away. His shiny creek rocks he gives her all stay polished on a shelf below the flowers, and rocks never go bad so he gives her lots of those.

Mom doesn't get gifts like the other omegas in town, or even the ones in their family. Aunt Sharon is always getting candies from her kids (a lot older than Peter; they can actually drive and cook by themselves) and her alpha mate. Mrs. Thistle, his first grade teacher, was always getting presents from the few alpha teachers and multiple betas, not to mention all the presents from all of her students.

But Mom doesn't get anything, not even from family--except Peter. As he gets older, Grandpa tells him, as he slips a small charm bracelet into Meredith's hand, that when you don't bond to an alpha and have a baby or aren't very good... people don't like to give gifts anymore. When he says that, Peter recalls that the only presents he'd ever received had been from Robbie down the road and Jeanine Patterson in his class. Nobody else ever gave him presents, so that must mean he was like Mom.

It was sad getting used to not being a good omega by 'sociation' like Grandpa called it. Not very hard getting used to it because Peter went his whole entire nine years of life living how he did so just realizing what he lived like wasn't normal wasn't very earthshaking. It was sad knowing that no matter what he did, he'd always have the bad omega smell on him. Alphas and betas had better noses, he knew, so they must be able to tell a good omega from a bad one real easily.

Since alphas obviously smelled the badness on you, Peter thought maybe when Mom got sick that the smell of all her medicine would make people realize that she wasn't a bad omega anymore and she could have presents again. It didn't. If anything, the smell made more betas and alphas stay away. If Mom hadn't already went most days with no presents--besides the ones from Peter and Grandpa--then Peter would've felt like people had abandoned her. But they hadn't.

They'd never been there in the first place.

_______________________________

Being with Yondu was different from being with Mom or Grandpa. Yondu smelled the bad omega on him, Peter was sure, because in Yondu's private quarters with Mr. Kraglin (his beta mate-man) the blue captain told Peter he was never to accept any gifts from anyone besides himself or Kraglin. After being taken from his mother, Peter was ready to accept any rules his new caretaker had to give. If Yondu wanted to be Peter's version of what Grandpa was to Mom, then he wouldn't sniff his nose at him--a bad omega like him wasn't going to get any gifts at all if he shunned the one person willing to overlook that.

So he nodded and took the smelly coat and soap Yondu gave him. The soap especially made him feel sick and hot all the time, but when he told Yondu the man said that was how you could tell it was working. The soap and coat were gifts... so Peter kept them and used them like the precious commodities they were. The soap, when it got worn out and was just a sliver of its former self, was always replaced. Yondu never gave him a gift where everyone could see him, and Peter didn't blame him. If he were an alpha, he'd never want to make people think less of his decisions just because he felt some pity for a homeless, orphaned bad omega.

________________________________

When Peter turned 21, he stopped four Skrulls from killing Kraglin. A lot of luck and a few well placed kicks to the face was all it took to scare the aliens off, and that's what Peter told Yondu when he came to their distress call. Kraglin told the story in a way that made Peter seem like a superhero from the old comic books back on Terra--his eyes glowing in the dark alley, an iron-like foot snapping somebody's jaw? Kraglin was odd.

For that, Yondu gave him the Ravager's signature red trench coat. He said that he'd proved his worth and earned his place as a Ravager, and Peter was happy. A label--Ravager!--other than 'bad omega' was finally stuck on him. When people pointed him out in a room now he knew they were looking at the ruby coat that signified him as a high ranking member of Yondu's crew and _not_ a product of misconduct.

A few months later Yondu gave him the Milano and used the incident defending Kraglin as good reason to do so. Peter knew that it was a gift, though, and sat in the cockpit for the first night crying. He didn't know what he did to deserve such a nice alpha looking out for him. Without Yondu, Peter probably never would've known gifts of any kind. He was so happy to get the ship he couldn't stop shaking.

But Peter had another reason for crying, the one he didn't tell Kraglin when the Xandarian gruffly asked him about the tears. Peter was such a _waste_. Yondu could've chosen any omega in the universe to give gifts to, but he chose little human from a backwater planet. Yondu chose an omega that wasn't just stupid and weak, but the worst sort of omega.

His mother may have loved his alpha father, but the alpha sure didn't love her enough to bond with her to make sure she got gifts, was loved, didn't _die alone_. Peter was a byproduct of his father and mother's unprofessed love. An unclaimed omega with a child was almost unheard of, even out here in the recesses of space. Even raped omegas were recognized as being special cases and most planets had placement systems in place for them and their children... but Peter wasn't the product of rape.

His mom wanted to have a child with a man who wouldn't be there. His mom wanted to remain unclaimed. His mother cursed him to follow in her footsteps and grip that bad reputation with both hands, never letting go.

________________________________

Around his 24th birthday, Peter got an idea. If he was bad, there was no fixing it. He would always be bad no matter what he did or how good he got, so why not have a good time? Alphas and betas loved him, and why shouldn't they? He knew he was pretty, even for a Terran omega, which were rare in space. He had the high cheekbones and bright eyes, nice hips and crooked smile that drew the opposite dynamics in.

A lot of males and females made their way through the Milano's hold over the next few years, but on the off chance they ran into Yondu, Peter could only avert his eyes. When it first happened, Yondu just squinted at him and told him to watch himself, but as the times kept rolling the captain just shook his head and touched the empathic band on his scalp, which flared red occasionally.

When Kraglin caught him with a sweet beta girl, he pressed his lips together and sat him down for a discussion about discretion--which Peter totally understood, no problem. If you're going to get down with somebody, do it away from the ship. It really wouldn't do to have anyone learning he's an omega on the Ravager ship. Peter couldn't agree more--if people knew he was an omega, they'd learn about the soap and make him stop using it. They'd ask where he got it and he wasn't a good liar, so Yondu would be outed as the gift-giver. When he stopped using the soap, they'd smell that he was a bad omega and Yondu would be mocked for taking care of such a damaged good.

This game of strategy eventually got to be too distressing, and Peter decided he had to get out.

________________________

After the fiasco with Ronan, Yondu sent him the doll in the mail. It had started to be a running gag between them, but Peter knew this time the blue man had sent the doll as a gift. He treasured it the same as the soap and coats and ship, even though it was already his in the first place.

Since he lived on his own (with the team), he didn't use the soap anymore. He wasn't worried about the others smelling the bad on him because he didn't expect gifts and didn't need them--and they shouldn't be giving him gifts anyway, he was still Peter and they were hardened criminals... well, Peter didn't need gifts from them as long as he had them as friends, which he was confident they would remain. You could be an omega and not have gifts--he was proof.

Except, not. As his original, omega smell started to come back, he remembered that both Gamora and Drax were alphas, Rocket was a male raccoon... so alpha? and Groot was a groot. He was an omega surrounded by opposites, but he couldn't be happier. They never commented on his new scent and he never questioned the tight relationship they all shared inside the ship--around him.

Groot didn't even have a dynamic and he just sprouted flowers all the time in his little pot. Everyone smiled when he did, so Peter just thought it was a Groot thing. He never noticed that the spout only grew flowers when Peter paid him attention. As he got bigger, the small tree often reached his branches out and physically handed the flowers to the starlord. When the shrub could speak, he fervently whispered, "I am _Groot!_ " and pressed the flowers into his hand until Peter understood.

He sat with Groot for a few hours, just trimming away the dead leaves and changing his soil and mulch and making sure he had enough water and care as he deserved, hiding his happy and grateful tears behind singing to MJ and dancing around the room. Groot was just a baby, though, he didn't know yet, like Peter hadn't known about Meredith.

Drax candidly informs him sometimes that he is a frail human and must protect himself, which Peter admits is a good idea. He is easily the least defensible person on their team when Groot isn't incapacitated, and another way to help himself is another way to help the team. Drax gives him a knife made from the spine of one of his victims. It horrifyingly endearing. Literally. He stiltedly says thank you and Drax almost delightedly tell him to expect more, which Peter is mildly terrified of, but Drax's warrior culture deserves to be expected, so if he gives out his conquests as bragging rights then that's all well and good. Especially if that bone knife really cuts as well as he says it will.

Gamora sits next to him in the cockpit all the time. They don't always talk, but sometimes she likes to remember her life with her brothers and sisters under Thanos' 'care'. She speaks fondly of them and he listens patiently, because it's what she deserves. Once, late at night when the others are long asleep, she reaches over and holds his hand, pressing something into his palm. To him it looks like a charm bracelet, only leather-like and there are few dangly bits that don't jingle at all. She tells him it's a battle ward, that her tribe on her planet wore them into fights to ensure good luck and a sure victory. Superstitious nonsense, she says, but if she thinks it'll make him less likely to mess up a fight he'll wear fifty of them just for her. He thanks her with a heartfelt smile.

When Rocket gives him a small pistol ergonomically designed to his specific human hand, with absolutely no reason other than 'I wanted to', Quill gets suspicious. He pays almost obsessive attention to all the nuances around the ship. Realizes that Groot sprouts in his presence, Drax determinedly polishes his already razor sharp knives, Gamora pilots with sure focus and Rocket gradually gets warmer and warmer to him until he's practically cordial. It's disturbing.

______________________

Peter's sitting in his room, or what qualifies as his--it's really a bunk in the large team room. He recognizes that he's feeling a bit melancholy, but doesn't know why.  The shaft to the lower levels is left open and he can hear a bit of the normal squabbling drifting up through the vents. Really, he can't figure out why the other's are giving him presents. Maybe they don't know about bad omegas out here? Maybe they don't care? He can't know, almost doesn't want to know the answer.

About an hour into his sulk, Drax's bald head pokes up from the ladder shaft. He spies Peter lying horizontal, staring into space, and pushes himself up through the door.

"What is troubling you, my friend?" He asks the omega, sitting himself roughly down on the bed. Peter is not like other omegas, needing to be coddled and gently spoken around. Not like his late wife and her type, with their whispering and giggling and soft eyes when they accept tokens of appreciation. Peter takes the gifts with something akin to anxiety, not quite knowing what to do with himself. It troubles the destroyer.

Quill starts out of his reverie, smiling disarmingly at Drax, "Nothing bud, just thinking really loudly I guess."

"You were actually very quiet, Starlord. Your human thoughts keep themselves well ensconced inside your head, I assure you I couldn't hear a word."

Peter chuckled and rotated his head to look better at Drax and smiles softer this time. Drax's innocence never fails to make Peter at least smile. The smile fades slowly, and his eyes retake their position in staring at the floor. The pilot is quiet for a few moments, thinking.

"Drax, what do I smell like to you?" He asks quietly, feeling out how he wants to go about his questions.

The destroyer pauses before answering, "Sweat, leather, and omega pheromones. Why would you ask this, Quill?"

Peter sits up now, almost fully alert, "Do you smell anything that would make you not want to do anything for me? Not give me anything? Just would put you off an omega like me?"

Drax's face darkens in rage, and his fists curl inwards, "Has someone done something to you? I will remove their pelvis through their abdominals if they have so much as wronged you!" he says fervently, almost eagerly awaiting Quill's answer. A slight against their family's omega would not be tolerated.

Peter scoots away a little, patting Drax's stiff shoulder almost as an afterthought, "Nobody did anything to me... I just thought I smelled a little off..." he's quiet again for a few minutes while Drax calms down.

"Drax," he begins, "would you believe me if I said I was a bad omega? Somebody not worthy of gifts or a mate or anything?" the previously removed rage in Drax's face returns with a thunderous shaking of the bed as he rises.

"The person who has said these cruel things to you is grievously wrong, and I will ensure they know this before I kill them. Tell me now who has said this to you so I may destroy them swiftly and remove those thoughts from your head!" The commanding tone in Drax's voice has Peter unconsciously moving towards the edge of the bed, to where the powerful alpha is standing. His ears are ringing faintly, but definitely not from the volume of Drax's voice, which is ferociously soft.

If he can't smell the bad on Peter, and he doesn't even think that Peter _could_ be bad... maybe the bad is not as genetic as he thought it was.

" _Peter_ ," Drax says, and Peter aches to answer him, but there's only one answer that makes sense.

"It was me," he says, almost wondrously, "I told myself that for a long time, Drax."

The older man's face lightens and softens simultaneously, "Then purge yourself of that habit, friend, for you are most worthy of our affection. You are one we are all pleased to call friend, and if we wish to show our favor of you then you will accept our tokens with utmost appreciation, and not doubt!"

Peter sits up, dangling his feet over the edge of the bed as he leans back against the wall, looking up through the porthole as pieces of his childhood all click together. Children give gifts, not get. An omega amongst Ravagers almost certainly would have been killed if precautionary measures weren't taken. Peter is _not_ broken, not _bad_...

And Peter is so, heartclenchingly happy that he feels like a small vertebrate could burst out of his chest cavity and start a song and dance routine and be completely justified because _Peter Jason Quill_ is just an omega. Quill is a Ravager, a normal and deserving omega, and a Guardian of the Galaxy with the best friends in the whole damn universe.

**Author's Note:**

> a little ooc, but a/b/o really is flexible there, i think ;) 
> 
> all mistakes are mine, this is unbetaed. thank you for reading.


End file.
